


Drabble Collection

by words-and-seeds (Capt_shiny)



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Childbirth, F/F, F/M, Group Sex, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, No Incest, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2019-11-20 16:35:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18129020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capt_shiny/pseuds/words-and-seeds
Summary: A collection of drabbles and headcanons for the characters of Far Cry 5.





	1. Polyseed x Female Deputy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was a request on tumblr for female deputy and polyseed with the quote: “I don’t give a damn.” “You give so many damns they’re visible from SPACE.”

Pregnant.

Rook was pregnant.

In a bunker.

Being pregnant in a normal environment with hospitals and doctors only a phone call away was challenging enough, but being trapped below ground, after the nuclear apocalypse, was a whole other kettle of fish.

She wasn’t the only one worrying this over, she knew. She hadn’t really started showing until her fifth month, but as she got closer to what they thought her due date might be, her body had swiftly changed. She was very heavily pregnant now - she was bloated, irritable, and tired. And so, so needy. The fathers and mother to be were starting to worry as well. They had all gotten so cautious with her - always so cautious - like she was made of the finest crystal, not a woman of flesh and bone with the very same needs she’d had from the beginning.

She hadn’t been touched, not in the way she really needed, in weeks. It both infuriated and depressed her in equal measure. And she knew it was her out of control hormones, but when she woke up one morning and couldn’t see her feet, it was the last straw. She immediately burst into tears. Her crying must have caused the bed to start shaking, because almost immediately, she felt a pair of arms close around her. Or try to, anyway. She was too big for them to reach all the way.

That only made her cry harder.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Faith asked the question around a yawn, pressing her face into Rook’s neck - both of them still soft and warm from sleep. She pressed her hand between Rook’s breasts, flattening her hand over her heart as if she could take the pain away with her touch. “Heartburn again? Are you in pain?”

Rook’s sobs shortened into sniffles and she managed to get out, “I can’t see my feet. I’m as big as a barge, no one wants me, and I can’t see my f-feet.”

Faith’s merry laughter echoed in her ears, even as her arms tightened and a small kiss was pressed to Rook’s jaw. “That’s silly. We all still want you, more than ever.”

That was the wrong thing to say. 

Rook’s tears dried up, and her face turned red as her mood swung from miserable straight around to angry. “It’s not silly,” she snapped. Faith drew back, her own eyes narrowing just slightly. And then, Rook could almost see the words as if they were written across the back of Faith’s head. _‘Don’t argue. She’s fragile.’_

She tried to push herself up into a sitting position, but her giant belly got in the way and she collapsed back on the bed. The anger drained away and she burst into noisy sobs.

Faith almost laughed again, but knew it would only escalate the situation, but she couldn’t help the big grin as she cradled Rook’s - yes, swollen, and red, and tear stained face - in her hands. “Oh, I do love you,” she told her, truth ringing on every syllable. “We all do, and we want you so much. That hasn’t changed. It never will.”

Rook’s lower lip wobbled and Faith couldn’t help herself from leaning over and kissing the wobble away. She drew back slightly, meeting Rook’s eyes. Whatever she saw there had her tighten her hands on Rook’s face, then her lips were back on Rook’s, much more insistent this time. Their sighs mingled, grew into moans as the kiss deepened, as Faith reached down to massage her breasts. But not for long, because her breasts were tender now. Far, far too tender. Rook hissed and batted Faith’s hand away. “Too much,” she whispered.

Faith’s smile was devious as she propped herself up. “Well, if I can’t touch you there, I’ll just have to touch you somewhere else, won’t I?”

Rook’s eyes met Faith’s, full of need, and not a little bit of arousal. She bit her lower lip, feeling herself warming at the thought. “Mmm, please,” she whispered, catching one of Faith’s hands and guiding it lower. Faith propped herself on her elbow, sliding down slightly so she could better reach, and let her finger’s slide over Rook’s clit.

“Anytime you need me, just tell me. I’ll take care of you.” With her fingers, she stroked and rubbed, exploring slowly. Faith pushed a second finger into her, scissoring them, stretching her. Rook moaned. “Poor little thing,” Faith cooed, “So weak and needy from our neglect. So desperate you’re humping my hand.”

Rook gasped, out of control as Faith pushed her higher. Faith grinned, then pressed her thumb against her clit. “Come for me, sweetheart. Come hard.”

Rook dug her nails into Faith’s arm, desperately rocking her hips for more friction. “I _can’t_. I need more.”

At the sound of a throat being cleared, both of their eyes flew to the door. Much to Rook’s despair, Faith removed her hand and sat up, looking almost guilty.

Rook frowned.

“I thought we agreed no more sex,” Jacob said, pointedly holding Faith’s gaze. His sister flushed and looked away.

Rook flushed too, but from anger as she felt her orgasm slipping away. **“I don’t give a damn what was agreed to!”**

 **“You give so many damns they’re visible from space,”** Faith replied in an aside.

Now Rook was wet, uncomfortably overstimulated, and left in need once again. She struggled once again to sit up - feeling and probably looking like a overturned turtle - and Jacob’s lips quirked as he watched her. He pushed away from the door and moved over to help her. Once she was actually sitting up, though, she slapped his hands away. “Who,” she asked coldly. “Is we?”

“That would be the four of us,” this was John’s voice now as her other two lovers made their own appearances in the doorway. “And you can’t possibly blame us for being concerned.”

 _‘Hail, hail, the gang’s all here,’_ Rook thought sourly as John and Joseph seated themselves on the bed. It wasn’t a large bed to begin with - which is why they all took turns sleeping in it with her - and it was almost claustrophobic with the five of them in it.

“What’s with the attitude?” Jacob asked, gesturing to her hands, which were clenched into tight fists on the blankets, giving away her frustration without her saying a word.

Joseph frowned and reached for one of her hands, turning them over and stroking his fingers over the red crescents left by her nails once she released her grip. “We love you,” he told her solemnly, lifting her palm to his lips. “We don’t want anything to happen to you.”

There was nothing but care and concern in his voice, but Rook couldn’t help but feel like a chastened child. She groaned and slouched back, and Faith’s hand went to her lower back, rubbing soothing, if slightly painful, circles.

“For fuck’s sake, I’m pregnant,” she could hear the whine in her own voice and hated it. “I’m not on the verge of some medical emergency. I don’t need to be wrapped in bubble wrap.”

She sighed, hating how gorgeous they all were. How good they all looked together, so concerned about her well-being.

“I’m horny,” she said, when the silence stretched on, laying it all out for them. “I need to be touched, to be fucked- made love to,” she amended, catching the gleam in Joseph’s eyes. Their relationship may have been unconventional, but some things would never change.

John was the first to break the silence after her impromptu confession. He started to laugh. “I’ve always loved your bluntness, my dear.”

Jacob flashed him a sideways look - the kind Rook had come to know all too well - then turned to encompass the rest of them, thinking, strategizing. Then he said, “sex can release oxytocin. It’s supposed to help with contractions.”

“We’ve heard this before,” Joseph replied, raising his hand for silence when the others started to speak. “She’s nearly full term. We need to be careful.”

Rook huffed, shifting forward slightly. “I’m right here and I can speak for myself,” she announced. “Sex to bring on labor is not unheard of. It’s actually very common. It’s one of this holistic, all natural things. We might as well try it, since we have no other choice than to be holistic and all natural down here, and I, for one, am ready to get this baby out of me.”

John reached for her other hand, twining their fingers together. “Well?” he asked, the question directed at Joseph.

Joseph didn’t say a word, but kept his eyes on Rook’s, the muscle in his jaw working - a sure sign he was thinking hard.

“Come on, baby,” she whispered, hitching herself forward until her breath tickled his lips. “Take me. I want it. _Please_.”

It was the please that broke him. With a shudder, he cupped the back of her head and dragged her the rest of the way forward, so he could clamp his mouth over hers. When he pulled back, her lips were swollen with the force of his kisses, but her eyes were happier than he’d seen in too long. “We go slow, and careful. And if there’s any pain, any tiny twinge, we stop.”

Rook released the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, her hormones were zinging around like crazy, and she was so, so wet. And she didn’t have to look around to know the others were relieved - and aroused - too. Jacob was beside her, and she didn’t need to turn to know that his strong shoulders were angled toward her, and his erection was straining against his jeans. She was sure he was itching to wrap his fingers around his cock and guide it to her mouth, but he shifted and dragged her back against his body for support instead. Ever the older brother, he would let the younger ones go first, get their fill, before he got his.

She loved him for it, Rook thought, letting her head fall back against his shoulder. She pressed her lips to his rough jawline, the whiskers scraping her lips. It was just one more sensation.

“Come on, John. Faith. Give the girl what she wants,” he told them.

“Needs,” Rook corrected. And she wasn’t joking. She needed this, not just the sex, but the intimacy. The connection with the people she loved. It had been weeks since the last time she had made love with any of them. And it had been beautiful, but it hadn’t been this. Slow, considerate, caring.

They spread her legs wide, each with a hand behind her knee as they exposed her to their gaze. She thought she would feel uncomfortable with how large she had grown with the baby, but she couldn’t. They didn’t let her. Their eyes shone with jsut as much hunger as they had before she’d conceived, maybe even more. John kept one hand pressed to her swollen belly, one hand between her legs, working her up again as Faith told her how beautiful she was. How much she liked her swollen nipples, how much her breasts had grown. All the changes motherhood was bringing to her body was noted, worshipped, by her lovers.

“You mean it,” she whispered, catching Joseph’s eye. He was standing at the foot of the bed now, idly stroking his erection as he watched and waited for his turn. At her words, he moved closer. Kneeling between John and Faith to press a kiss against her mouth.

“Nothing will ever change how much we love you. How much we want you. We love you,” he told her before drawing back again. She knew that. She had always known that, just as she knew she would always love them.

She yelped as John, ever the impatient one, finally grew tired of playing and dipped his face forward, nuzzling between her thighs. The graze of his beard against her thighs felt amazing, and she couldn’t stop the moans streaming from her lips.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Jacob whispered, nibbling on her earlobe. “So fucking beautiful, all ripe and swollen with our baby.”

She whimpered as his hand trailed to one sensitive breast and tugged, adding a pinch of pain to her pleasure. Faith rose up on her knees to bring her face to Rook’s breasts, sucking one nipple in deep. A tiny punishment, given so sweetly.

Rook couldn’t keep herself still, rocking her body as she was inundated with sensation. As worked up as she was getting, it wasn’t long before her breath was coming in short, sharp gasps, her toes curling in pleasure. “I’m close, I’m so close.”

She lifted her head, desperate to see. Joseph stood before her, hand working harder now, Faith was nuzzling at her hard nipples, and John’s head was buried between her thighs. She could hear soft laughter, like she used to in the Bliss. Now she was in another kind of bliss. And she was wet, she was so, so wet as she crested into her orgasm.

“ _Fuck!_ ” As suddenly as the orgasm had come, so did the contraction. This time when she cried out, it was in pure pain. The other froze like statues as she tensed up, hands on her clammy skin and she pushed them away from her. Jacob’s arms came around her, slid under her belly, as she tensed again. She felt something like a pop, and the wetness between her legs was suddenly a flood. “Oh- _fuck! Ow!_ ”

And this was it, really it.

Rook was in labor.

In a bunker.

With no doctors or epidurals.

And two of her lovers with dithering around in panic. Joseph hastily shoved his dick back into his pants and crawled onto the bed beside her, taking one of her hands. His smile could have lit up the room, and then she closed her eyes as he pressed his forehead to hers.

There was a strange moment of calm as she settled between two of her men, but it was short lived before another contraction took hold of her. Jacob was snapping out orders to John and Faith, telling them to start boiling water, to fetch the labor kit he’d been preparing for weeks. He couldn’t leave her side, she was gripping his hand, back bowed in pain.

If she hadn’t been desperately trying for breath, she would have laughed at the way Faith ran from the room, stark naked, in her rush.

“I’m scared,” she whispered.

It felt like it had been days, but it had been nearly ten hours. She had tried standing, tried bending over, and lying on her back, but her baby just didn’t want to come out. She felt weak, boneless. Sweat coated her forehead, sticking her hair to her skin. “What if I can’t do this?”

They had taken turns sitting with her, helping her walk, wiping the sweat from her brow, and napping. They had also taken turns having their hands crushed, and being viciously sworn at.

Joseph had wisely refrained from commenting about her language.

Now it was just her and Jacob. The others were gone, banished from the room when the nervous pacing and dithering had turned to outright panic when the hours wore on and on. She had one hand gripping his, the other gripping the headboard as she bent double.  

Apparently her child was perfectly happy where she was, because she wasn’t coming out. Rook’s body was just done with her being in there. The problem was, as hard as she pushed, the baby wouldn’t come out. And it had been too long. She was worn right out.

“You can do this,” he said simply, brushing her hair away from her face. “You are strong. You’ve passed every trial set before you up until this moment. You’ll pass this one.”

She couldn’t reply, another contraction moved through her, ripping anguished cries from her as she pushed. And pushed. And pushed. Pushed with everything she had, which wasn’t much, then collapsed. Jacob caught her and helped her to the bed. Her head fell to his shoulder because she was simply too exhausted to hold it up.

Her cries had brought the others back, and John’s breath caught, Joseph’s, too. Faith crawled onto the bed beside her and took her hand. “Please, my dear, please push,” John begged, throat tight.

“I can’t,” she whispered, pain ripping through her. She couldn’t push and fight the pain at the same time. It was too much.

“Please,” Faith whispered. “For little Jonah or Joy. We’re so excited to meet them, aren’t you?”

Jonah or Joy. The next generation of J names for the Seed family, picked in a joyous moment when she had first confirmed she was pregnant.

Rook flung her hand out to Joseph, and when he took it, she pulled him close. “Listen to me,” she whispered. “We need to do a c-section.”

“No-” his instinctive denial was cut short when Rook gripped his hand so tightly the bones ground together. 

“Yes,” she insisted, pale face set and certain. “Yes. I want our baby to live, no matter what. She’s not coming, darling. And if that’s the only way…”

“No! No, I’m not going to lose you!” This outburst was from John, who had taken Joseph’s station at the foot of the bed. He grabbed her foot, her ankle, any part of her he could reach. His hands were tight enough to bruise, but she could barely feel it. “I can’t. Please. Please push. _Please!_ ”

“Please, you have to push!”

Rook nodded weakly, lifted her head, and tried again. She had so little left to give now, and she gave it all she had left, squeezing her eyes tight and digging her heels into the bed. But it was no use. She collapsed, sobbing and wheezing. “I can’t!”

Jacob lowered her against the pillow, then moved around so he could see her face. “Look at me, Rook,” his voice was soft, tender.

She fought the pain, pulled in a shuddering breath, then opened her eyes. She stared. Jacob was scared, it was right there in his eyes, clear and unhidden. Her strong mountain man who never showed fear was scared. “I know you’re tired. I know you’re in pain, but you’re so strong. Be strong this one last time. Push, baby,” he whispered.

He held her eyes, and she dug deep for one last reserve of strength. She gritted her teeth, redoubled her grip on the hands she was holding, and she pushed. Hard.

Again.

Again.

And _again._

“The baby is crowning!” John’s voice cracked with excitement, and his cry brought Joseph and Faith down to the foot of the bed. Faith took Rook’s hand, dragging it down between her leg so she could feel the baby’s head. “She’s here. Feel her. She’s coming. You’re doing so well.”

Rook sobbed as she pushed. Again. Again.

And then her baby was there, squalling. Jacob moved between her legs, using his knife to cut the cord. Rook collapsed back. Boneless, exhausted.

“Rook,” it was Jacob again, voice thick with emotion, and she rolled her head to look see him holding up a tiny, wrinkled, furiously angry baby boy. Her eyes filled with tears when she saw how perfect he was, even as the others joked - through their own tears and emotion - that he must be John’s, given the temper tantrum he was throwing.

And then her body jerked as renewed pain ripped through her, making her scream in agony and bowing her back from the bed. Jacob hurriedly handed off the baby boy to keep his hands free as he moved back between her legs.

“What’s happening?” Joseph asked, panicking, even as he held their son to his chest.

Jacob palpated her belly, then swore viciously. “It’s twins,” he said grimly. “We’re going to need more water and towels. Baby, push again. One more time, sweetheart.”

Rook squeezed her eyes shut, pushed, and roared as another baby slid out, much easier this time.

Then, minutes later, a third.

“I might have known,” Jacob laughed, as close to hysteria as any of them had ever seen. “She looked like a goddamn schoolbus from the side.”

Later, much, much later, Rook felt the bed shift beneath her, and her eyes drifted open. One body was pressed tightly to her side, and she wasn’t all that surprised to see it was John. Faith had lowered herself to sit in front of her with a tightly wrapped bundle in her arms.

“Hi, welcome back,” if her voice was wobbly with emotion, no one would comment on it. From the corner of Rook’s eye, she could see movement, and knew that it would be her other two men and her babies.

Her babies.

“How are they?” She wanted to reach out and touch, but she was so tired. So, so tired.

“They’re wonderful.” Faith couldn’t resist, and she leaned down to kiss Rook. “We have a Jonah, and Joy. Now we need a name for our other little girl.”

She angled the bundle so Rook could get a closer look, and the corners of her lips lifted slightly. She managed to lift a finger to the soft tuft of hair on her daughter’s head, as soft and delicate as cornsilk.

Rook looked at her lovers, the woman and the men who had taken her from the path she thought she had been meant to walk, then changed it. Forever altering the courses their lives would take. Four times she had made a choice, four times she had offered them something the world never had. It was only fitting that now she would give her daughter the same name.

“Mercy,” she said quietly, meeting Faith’s eyes. “Her name is Mercy.”


	2. John Seed & Joseph Seed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was a request with no characters specified, but the quote: “Sometimes, memories are the worst torture.”

When John walked into Joseph’s compound, he knew immediately that something was wrong. There were people milling around, an uncommon sight at the best of times - Joseph didn’t like idle hands, and there wasn’t a lot of down time - but during the time when Joseph had a sermon scheduled, it was unheard of. Without Joseph to guide them, they were rudderless, they seemed lost and unsure of what to do.

The relief was palpable when they caught sight of John climbing out of his car. Like chickens who hear someone coming to feed them, they all started moving toward him at once, each person trying to explain what was going on at the same time. All John could hear was a din. He held up both hands the way he had seen Joseph do, and to his surprise, it worked. They all went silent.

“Where is the Father?” he asked.

Just like that, the din started. He did the hand trick again, then pointed to a brother with a beard like a rhododendron bush. “You, and you alone, tell me where the Father is.”

“In the chapel,” he replied, somewhat taken aback. “He’s been in there all night, and he locked the door when we tried to come in.”

John strode onward, with his brother’s followers trailing him like a line of scruffy baby ducks, to the chapel. The door was still locked. He had a key, of course, all of the Heralds did, but he didn’t feel right opening it with the crowd around him. “I will see what’s happening with the Father, I’m sure everything is okay. What I need from you is to see to your duties.”

Once they were gone, John opened the door and slipped into the gloomy chapel. At first glance, it looked empty. It took a second look before he saw Joseph kneeling in the first pew. His hands were clasped together and pressed to his forehead. He was rocking slightly and praying urgently.

“Joseph?” It was a whisper, but it echoed around the near empty chapel.

The Father didn’t reply immediately, but he stilled. It was a revelation to watch him take control of himself again, to see the mantle of The Father come down over his shoulders. He took a deep breath and looked over at John. The naked anguish in his eyes made John’s breath catch.  

 **“Sometimes, memories are the worst torture,”** he said. Then he held his arms out.

John went willingly into them, holding his brother close, offering what comfort he could. “Do- do you want to talk about it?”

Joseph sighed and carded his finger’s through the hair on the back of John’s head. “I’m tempted to say no, but God brought you to me for a reason today, my brother. I think it was to unburden myself.”

John’s duties at confessor had never run to Joseph, but he would gladly do anything his brother asked of him. They spoke into the night, and John vowed that not a soul would ever know the things his brother told him.


	3. John Seed x Female Deputy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request on tumblr for John Seed and a female deputy, and the quote: “So, err. I noticed you’re kinda naked. Is that intentional, or…?”

John Seed was a creature of comforts - it was common knowledge. Everyone in Holland Valley, for example, whispered about carrara marble and solid gold fixtures. They said his towels were made of Egyptian cotton, and his bubble bath was imported from Morocco.

When she took Seed Ranch, Rook was very happy, and incredibly angry, to discover that all of those whispers were one hundred percent true. She had been bathing - _ha!_ Call it bathing, she had been washing all the bits as they became available, because getting completely nude in rural Montana in the fall while there was a crazy, creepy cult running around was suicidal - in icy mountain runoff and then air drying while that handsome, smug bastard had been soaking in a small pool disguised as a tub.

The first thing she was going to do, she vowed, was take a two hour long soak in that beautiful tub. It was big enough to hold an entire swim team and deep enough to go scuba diving. There was even a little silk pillow to rest her weary head on. With one look at that set up, Rook was ready and willing to kiss John Seed in thanks. And then, when she found the drawer full of exotic smelling bath salts, she was fully willing to go down in gratitude.

On her knees, that is.

In prayer.

Not the other thing.

The only downside, was that the master bath was on the second floor, awfully far away from the mudroom with the washer and dryer on the first floor. If she wanted to wash her clothes - and there was very little on earth that Rook wanted more than clean clothes at this point - then she had to trek from one corner of the house to the other completely nude.

She thought she would be fine. She had stationed guards at the perimeter, and there was a tame grizzly bear sleeping on the back porch. She should have been fine.  When she heard a gun cocking when she was halfway across the dark living room, she swore viciously.

When John Seed walked out of the shadows, she let out a little shriek and tried to cover everything she could. Unfortunately, she only had two arms. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Okay, so it was a little unoriginal, but it was the best she could do with shock and fear scrambling her brain.

For his part, John looked just as shocked as she must have. “This is my house, what do you mean, what am I doing here?”

“There-there were guards!” She had one hand covering her intimate bits, and one arm covering her breasts, and she could feel the wall of windows behind her. Thank god Cheeseburger was the only one out there at the moment. With the way her luck was shaping up, he would mistake her pale skin for salmon belly and come charging in to end her torment.

“Oh, deputy. That bunch of sinners was passed out drunk twenty minutes after you left. If my Chosen have done their duty, your people are halfway back to my bunker by now.” His eyes traveled down and his smile widened into a grin. “ **So, I noticed you’re kinda naked. Is that intentional?** Were you waiting for me, darling?”

Without thinking, Rook’s hands went to her hips, her bare hips, then snapped back up to cover herself. “I was waiting for a bath!”

A bath that looked unlikely now. She could have cried, she really could have. She felt herself going through every stage of grief at the same time.

“John” she started, fully prepared to beg and bargain. “I swear to you, I’ll come willingly. I’ll let you tattoo whatever you want,” his eyes jumped to hers and she hurried to correct that, “whatever sin you want on my chest. But please, please, please let me have a bath.”

The gun in his hand made its way back into the holster on his thigh and he held both hands out to her. “Of course you may, my darling. I’ll even wash your hair for you.”

She let him - he did surprisingly good scalp massages - and she felt zero guilt or regret as she was hustled, squeaky clean, and zip tied hands and everything, into a van heading for John’s Gate.

A girl would do what a girl had to do for a bubble bath.


	4. Jacob Seed x Female Deputy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request for Jacob Seed and a female deputy, plus the quote: “Is that blood?” “No?” “That’s not a question you’re supposed to answer with another question.” and “I just need a cuddle.”

Jacob could not quite believe his luck when he came across the famed Deputy of Hope County - the darling of the resistance, the savior of Fall’s End, and liberator of the Henbane - lying in a copse of trees. Since he was watching through his sniper scope, he didn’t feel much of a need to move. Of the two of them, he was certain he had much more staying power. He was willing to wait out whatever this was supposed to be.

He didn’t think she was the ambush type - she was very much more the run in guns blazing and blow everything to shit type - but he always thought everything was an ambush.

It kept him alive.

Twenty minutes later, he had changed his mind. She hadn’t even twitched.

He dropped from his perch and slung the rifle over his shoulder as he hiked toward her. Things were quiet in the Whitetails and it didn’t take long before he was standing over her supine body. As far as he could tell, she hadn’t moved from the position he’d seen through his scope.

He used the tip of his boot to prod her in the shoulder. Once. Then again, slightly harder. “You dead?”

It took a minute, but eventually she licked her lips and replied, “no?”

He crouched down next to her, cataloging her appearance. There was mud, grease, and other assorted fluids staining her clothing. It looked like she’d been run over and then thrown off the shoulder.

“That blood?” he asked, pointing to a large rust colored stain. He was pretty sure it was, and he’d seen enough dried blood to know.

“No?” She hadn’t opened her eyes or moved since he’d gotten there.

“That’s not a question you’re supposed to answer with another question.” He sighed. “How long you been out here, Dep?”

“One day, maybe two.”

Since her lips weren’t even chapped yet, he seriously doubted that. It was probably the blood loss talking. Maybe a concussion, he conceded as he lifted one eyelid to check her pupil. She swatted at his hand, but it was like being attacked by a damp tissue. “Cut it out. I’m trying to see what’s wrong with you.”

“Nothing is wrong with me. I just need a cuddle.”

There was complete silence for a moment. The entire world seemed to pause in that moment, even the bugs stopped buzzing in the grass.

“Yeah, that’s definitely the blood loss talking now,” he chuckled. He slid his hands carefully under her and hoisted her, as gently as he could, into his arms. “Keep still, I’m going to take you to someone who can help you, and then I know a couple of people who are very interested in talking to you.”

Joseph and John were going to think Christmas had come early. The Deputy was going to be off her feet for a while, which would put a crimp in his plans for her, but plans could be adjusted.

It was hours later before the deputy was finally up for a few questions. The doctor had come and gone and pronounced her dehydrated and anemic, but there were no broken bones and only a mild concussion. The thing that would cause the most pain for a while was the sunburn.

Jacob was sitting in a chair next to the bed, waiting for her to wake up. He wouldn’t say he was eager, as such, and he was hardly waiting with bated breath, it was just that he couldn’t remember something he had looked forward to more. He was halfway through a report from his Chosen about stopping those damned Whitetail pirate radio broadcasts when he heard her stirring.

Barely able to keep the smirk from showing, he lowered the paper. “Morning. Still want that cuddle?”

The look of sheer horror on her face was going to keep him warm for a long time to come.


	5. John Seed x Female Deputy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request for John Seed and female deputy with: “I hate you.” “Why? I’m lovely.”

**“I hate you.”**

The statement came out of nowhere, and John paused, the razor blade carefully pressed to his throat. He sighed, then set it on the edge of the sink. Moving carefully and deliberately, he wiped the shaving cream from his throat with a hot towel, then set that aside as well. Wearing nothing but a large white towel around his waist, he turned and spread his arms. **“Why? I’m lovely.”**

Rook’s mouth nearly started watering at the view, but she scowled and turned her face away, unaware of the appealing picture she made as she did. Still nude from the night before, flushed and rosy with sleep. John was tempted to climb back into bed with her and put that pout to use.

 _But, alas,_ he thought. _Duty calls._

“And you’re lovely, too. Now get in the shower, I saved some hot water for you. We need to leave in fifteen minutes or we’re going to be late.”

Joseph wouldn’t tolerate lateness for the morning service. He knew any of his older brother’s annoyance would be tempered when he saw just who John had accompanying him, but he didn’t want anything to mar this morning. He was cheerful, energized, and joy - pure joy - was running inside him in long, loose strides.

Rook still hadn’t moved from her spot in bed, and John smirked. “Chop, chop, darling. Don’t make me come and get you.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” More than a little irritated - John had become dangerous since he learned he could extract promises when she was in, call it a compromised state of mind - and she rolled out of bed, covering her bare breasts with her arm.

“It’s okay to pout, but be sure to have a happy smiling face when we get there,” he told her as she passed.

“I’m not pouting. I’m entirely too mature to pout.”

“Whatever you say, my dear.” He grabbed his dress pants, tugged them on. “You’re amazing, you’re perfect. You’re the best.”

“You’re full of shit,” she replied, but there was a smile in her voice, and she punctuated that by throwing her underwear over the curtain at him.

John caught them and, instead of dropping them in the hamper, he tucked them in his pocket. Happy and whistling, John left his Rook to her shower and went to finish dressing. He knew with a certainty that she hadn’t brought another pair with her to the Ranch, and she would have to sit through Joseph’s sermon bare. That dirty little secret would certainly keep him smiling and upbeat, if struggling to keep his hands to himself.


	6. John Seed x Female Deputy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I prompted myself for this one with the quote: "I can't help you unless you talk to me."

“Oh, John.”

John glanced sideways as the radio sitting at the edge of his desk crackled to life. He had piles of paperwork sitting in front of him, dozens of things that demanded his attention, and as usual, the deputy chose to cut in at the most inopportune of moments. At least it wasn’t a massive explosion. This time.

“Oh John, bold and brave.”

Deciding that she wasn’t going to go away until he acknowledged her, he grabbed the radio and clicked over to call. “Yes, Deputy? Are you ready to confess, or did you just miss the sound of my voice?”

There was a pause before she replied. “Always wan’ to confess to you, y’know? There’s something about you. You make people want to tell you their secrets. ‘S damn annoying.”

_Was she drunk?_

“Are you drunk, Rook?” John kept his voice deceptively pleasant, but the razorblade of menace was there, just under the surface. While he was normally quite happy to let the Darling Deputy of Hope County indulge in her sin, today was the exception. He did not have _time_ for this today.

There was a pause, long enough that John though she might have actually gotten bored and gone off to torment one of his siblings instead, but - of course - just as he was starting to get his focus back, the radio crackled to life once more.

“I don’ drink. Never touch a drop. My dad’s fault. He got mean.”

John froze at the revelation, at the first personal thing she’d ever revealed to him. “What do you mean by that?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

There’s a longer pause on the radio this time, and it was slowly starting to sink in that something was wrong here.

“Not-not like yours were. Jesus, I read your file. Not that like, made me sick. Made me want to find them, hurt them.”

The radio went silent once more and John could have cursed. He was clutching the radio in both hands, close to his chest. Waiting, he realized with no small amount of annoyance, with bated breath. “I believe we were talking about your father, deputy. Not mine,” he said when the silence stretched on too long.

This time the reply was immediate.

“He said mean things. Sticks ‘n stones will break my bones, and words can hurt the worst of all. I was-I was drawn to you at first because of that,” his breath stuttered out at her telling choice of words, and then she continued, “Eden’s Gate, where there’s no alc’hol, no drugs. But you do bad things anyway, without them.”

John waited to see if anything was forthcoming, but that seemed to be it for now. Still, now that he had her talking, had her telling him personal things - _confessing_ personal things - he couldn’t just let her stop. With a little push, maybe he would finally achieve his goal.

“We do what we have to, to prepare for the Collapse. Needs must, my dear. The ends justify the means. Why are you telling me all of this, Deputy?” John’s voice was back to charming, caramel sweetness dripped from every syllable. “Are you ready to put aside your sin and join us? Are you ready to confess? Say yes, darling.”

That time the silence went on for so long that John started to think she had turned her radio off, that she had been toying with him, and black rage began to stir low in his gut, churning and churning. And then the radio crackled to life once again.

“Oh, John. Yes, I want to confess.” She laughed, and there was something…wrong. It didn’t sound like the merry laughter he had grown used to as she sowed destruction in his region. It sounded choked, weak. “I don’t want to die with blood on my hands, and you’re the only one in earshot.”

In that moment, everything seemed to freeze around him, like a snapshot in time. It was a warm day, beautiful, and John had carefully positioned his desk to take advantage of the warmth and sunlight in the room, but he had gone cold. “That’s not funny.”

“’M not joking. Internal bleeding, I think.”

And now that he knew something was wrong, now that his instincts had been pricked, he could hear the tiny gasps in her voice. He recognized the sounds of someone in pain, and the slurring and increasingly long pauses started to make sense. He opened his mouth, but for probably the first time in his life, John Seed was at a loss for words. Then he tried again.

“Tell me what’s happening, I’m sure you’re overreacting.”

But he knew that she wasn’t. He’d heard tall tales about this woman, about her seemingly superhuman ability to shake off bullet wounds and walk away laughing.

“Your Chosen happened. Me n’ Adelaide were flying. Lucky shot, took us down. Landed in Jacob’s region. Addie bailed out, but…”

But she hadn’t, or couldn’t. Visions of disaster danced in John’s mind, everything from parachutes that hadn’t opened to exploding fuel tanks.

“Where are you? I’ll come for you.” And he would, he would scour every inch of the Whitetails if he had to. He was already on his feet, ready to dash out the door and start the search. If she’d been in his territory, if his Chosen had taken them down, they had to be close to the border. He could be in and out before Jacob even knew it. Joseph would understand. He would. He had to.

“‘S too late. Addie went for help, but it‘s been hours. No planes can get in here, John. Too many trees. No one’s coming.” Her voice was weak, like getting the words out was a struggle.

“And she just left you?” He wanted to throttle her for waiting so long to radio. For depending on that _harlot_ for help. For being too _prideful_ to ask the enemy for help. To ask him.  

“No choice. Can’t feel my legs. Can’t really feel anything. ‘S good, right? No pain?” 

John gripped the radio so tightly that the plastic creaked and he took a deep breath to calm himself before he said, “where are you, Deputy? Give me a landmark. Give me _something_. **I can’t help you unless you talk to me.** ”

There was silence again.

“I can hear Judges, John. I think I’m close to a beacon. Promise me you won’t let them have me, John. Please, I can’t-” her voice cracked on a sob and the connection was lost momentarily. “Please don’t let them get me.”

There was no disguising the tears then, real fear as she believed her life was coming to its end.

“Listen to me, Rook. I swear to you, on Joseph’s name, that I won’t let them have you. I’ll bring you home.”

Dead or alive, he wouldn’t leave her there.


	7. Staci Pratt & Female Deputy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a video of the Junior Deputy's trials where Staci can be heard telling her to cull the herd.

From the moment he carried her unconscious body into the Veteran’s center to the moment he pushes her off the balcony, Staci Pratt - good time Staci, everyone’s little brother, goofy, funny Staci - encourages his best friend to kill. To slaughter indiscriminately. To cull the herd. He urges her on with a blood lust that would shock any rational person - if there are any of those left in world; there are certainly none left in Hope County.

Every time Rook runs the trials, from the first to the last, Staci watches with his heart in his throat. He tells her to cull the herd. Chants it. Cries, sobs, begs in his head for her to cull the herd. To be strong.

Because if she doesn’t…

if she fails…

He can’t bear to think about it.

Somehow, it’s worse than when he was running through his own trials. He barely remembers those, it’s all a red tinted blaze. And he wouldn’t want to remember those, even if he could. It might make him weak, but he would prefer not to remember the faces of the people he culled. People weaker than him.

Maybe that’s why her victims haunt him. Because his own don’t. Because they won’t phase her - she won’t remember a thing, just blank spots in the memory. Maybe it’s his job to carry the guilt for the both of them, because he’s encouraging her. He wants her to kill them; they’re not strong. They are meat.

But she is so much more.


	8. John Seed x Female Deputy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request on tumblr for John Seed and a female deputy, and the quote: “You’re a psychopath.” “I prefer creative.”

It had been exactly a month since junior deputy Lia Rook started her job in Hope County Montana. 

The month from hell. 

Not one single thing had gone right in all that time. 

Not.

One. 

Single. 

Thing. 

First the truck carrying all of her belongings from Denver had somehow gotten rerouted, and as far as she could tell, was somewhere in Maine now. For three weeks now, she had been sleeping in the back office of the Hope County jail with only the cushioning provided by a sleeping bag. 

Then, on a routine warning call to the friendly local pyromaniac, she’d gotten her beautiful hair completely singed off. Nancy said she looked good with a pixie cut, but she knew Staci and Joey were laughing at her behind her back - and she could sometimes still smell burnt hair. 

And if that weren’t enough, the next call she and Staci had gone on was supposed to be a routine noise complaint at a community barbecue. Or, at least, that’s what she thought it was. 

It was a barbecue, and it was pretty boisterous, but Lia didn’t understand what the big deal was at first. She had been greeted by an incredibly charming man - John, the ranch owner, she came to find out - who was absolutely  _ horrified  _ to hear that anyone had been inconvenienced by their little get together. 

He’d been quite happy to show her around the property and introduce her to people. Everything had been going really well. Lia was two smiles away from passing him her number - it was his smile. She could swear she heard a ting from the light glinting off his Hollywood smile - when Staci caught up to them. 

That was when he decided to cut her in on Hope County’s best kept secret: in addition to the pyromaniac - and the conspiracy theorist, and the man who believed aliens were on the way - they had a cult. Apparently her desire to escape the big city had landed her in a hotbed of crazy. 

And John, the beautiful blue eyed man, was one of their leaders. 

It was too much, it was really too much. 

She could feel Staci’s eyes on her back as she headed back to their cruiser, throat burning with unshed tears, and face bright pink with utter humiliation. And then...she couldn’t really remember what happened. All she knew was that she was so...happy. So free.

Then Staci found her trying to skinny dip in the ranch pond, higher than a kite. Luckily her partner had gotten to her before she’d gotten her shirt completely off, but now an entire cult knew she was packing more than just a standard issue M1911, courtesy of Victoria’s Secret. 

The sheriff had explained as she sat in her makeshift bedroom, wrapped in a blanket as she came down from her high, that she’d just seen the cults’ two main recruitment methods - charismatic leaders, and hallucinogens. 

Lia had been given a few days off - which she very wisely took by finding a motel and locking herself away from the absolute insanity that was Hope County. By the time she came back, she had regained her confidence and had put the previous weeks behind her, even if Staci couldn’t meet her eyes. 

She considered it a fresh start, a new beginning, so to speak. 

Sheriff Whitehorse must have sensed that she was one incident away from turning in her badge and hightailing it back to Denver, because he suggested that she take a few days on desk duty before getting back into the swing of things. Seeing as she was the newbie on the team - and, oh, hadn’t Staci just loved the coincidence of her surname being Rook and her being the rookie - she didn’t want to be seen to be babied, so she had refused. 

She shouldn’t have refused. 

It should have been an easy patrol. Hell, it was Hope County, not Los Angeles. There was no reason for anyone to think it would be anything other than a standard patrol in a sleepy little town.

Three hours later, as Lia was being released from the emergency room, she was cursing small towns, local drug dealers, her partner, and lady luck particular.

“At least we got the guy,” Staci offered into the oppressive silence that had swamped the cruiser as soon as they got in. Lia was sitting with her head - her aching, overheated head - against the window. At his words, she tilted her head to glare at him through one good eye. The other was starting to swell up. 

“I would really like a drink.” Each word was said slowly, enunciated clearly, so there could be no misunderstanding her. 

“We’re still on duty, Rook-” Staci stopped short at the look Lia shot him. The sheer hostility in it nearly took the top of his head right off. “A drink. Right. We’ll just stop by the Spread Eagle for a bit.”

Lia would rather buy a bottle in a brown bag and take it home, but then she remembered that she was effectively homeless and the sheriff probably wouldn’t like her getting drunk at the jail, not unless she wanted to spend the evening in the cells with the other drunk and disorderlies. 

She was all but homeless - definitely possessionless - she’d had her hair burned off. She’d been drugged and tried to skinny dip. She’d almost been flirty fished into joining a cult. And now, she had been assaulted by some junkie asshole. 

She expected to get very drunk and quite disorderly, and then she was going to turn in her resignation, call her parents and beg them to send her the money to get home.

She was two beers in - Mary May refused to give her anything stronger, and  Staci had abandoned her, after much assurance that she would be just fine on her own, for a table full of pretty tourists - when the blue eyed cult boy made his appearance. 

Lady luck - that fucking bitch - really had it out for her. 

“Deputy, what a pleasant surprise,” he said as he sat on the stool beside her. “You haven’t been back to any of our activities. I was so hoping to see you again.”

“Not right now, Mr. Seed. I’m really not in the mood.” She was careful to keep her face angled away as she spoke. No need for word to spread that she was completely useless at her job. 

“Oh, come now, I thought we had a connection.” A muscle in his jaw began to tic when she continued to ignore him, and John reached out for her. Ignoring her quick, instinctive jerk, he turned her to face him. His breath caught. Her face - the face that had so fascinated him at the barbecue - was bruised and battered. “Jesus. That’s one hell of a black eye, deputy. What does the other guy look like?”

“I wish I could tell you.” Lia’s hand closed around his wrist, trying to pull away, but he only tightened his grip on her. She winced, and only then did he release her. Then, John gave her silence. He knew enough about people to know that what they wanted in times of trauma- whether they wanted silence, a chat, debate, or information - and Lia wanted silence right now. Eventually, she would fill it, but for now he would give her what she needed. 

Sure enough, after a few moments, she turned to him. “Can you -” she cut herself off and turned away. 

“Can I?” he asked, raising one brow. 

“Can you take me somewhere? I just need to go somewhere for a couple hours. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’m going to fall apart in a few minutes and I don’t really know anyone here who isn’t a coworker. So, can you take me somewhere private and quiet for a few hours? It’s a big favor, but -”

“Of course, darling.” Lia eyed him, but his face was blank and she decided to let the endearment go without comment. For now. “Can you walk?” 

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. All that’s wounded is my pride and my face.” 

That didn’t stop him from sliding an arm around her, supporting her with all the care of a man carrying a piece of fragile glassware as he helped her outside. 

“I hope I’m not dragging you away from anything.” That was a lie, she was happy to steal him from whatever he’d been doing. Because, God, it felt good to lean on someone else. Someone she didn’t work with, someone who didn’t see her as a dead weight newbie. 

She barely moved after he got her into his car - his really nice red sports car, she notice - and helped her buckle in. 

“Try to relax,” he told her as they pulled out of the parking spot. But she didn’t relax, he noticed. Not as they left Fall’s End and got onto the more rural roads of Holland Valley, a route that even he - a devoted city dweller - thought was a beautiful, scenic route. In fact, she barely moved as they drove the length of Holland Valley, from one end to the other. Only when he slowed for the final drive up to his ranch did she stir and open her eyes. 

John had gone for grand in the design with his architects, Lia noted. It definitely wasn’t in keeping with the rustic aesthetic adopted by the rest of the county. Then again, he probably wasn’t all that interested in fitting in. 

“It’s beautiful place,” she said absently as John reached across and unbuckled her belt. “I thought that the first time I saw it.”

“It’s grown on me, I have to admit.” He got out, came around to her side to help her out, then let her lean on him as they walked up the veranda. “Have you taken anything for pain? Or is this unsteadiness just from the alcohol?”

“Beer. I’m not stupid enough to mix alcohol and meds.” He lowered her down onto the sofa, where she immediately bent and rested her aching head on her knees. Tears flooded her eyes, soaking into her uniform pants as the events of the last few hours - few days, few weeks - caught up to her. “I think it’s breakdown time.”

“It’s all right.” He laid a hand on her back, rubbed soothing circles when he could feel her start to shake. “You go right ahead.”

Somehow she ended up curled up in his arms, sobbing away, as she - somewhat brokenly - explained everything that had happened since she moved to Montana. She wasn’t ashamed of her tears, not when they needed to be shed. She was grateful for the release, and grateful that he did nothing more than pat her head and let her cry. 

When the shaking eased and the tears slowed to a stop, he eased her back and smiled - that perfect Hollywood smile again. She almost expected to hear a ting as the light flashed on his perfect teeth. “Better, my dear?”

“Yes.” She took a deep breath. “Thank you. For everything.”

“Here’s what we’re going to do, “ he told her, sliding his hand down to cup her chin, making sure she couldn’t break his gaze. “I’m going to get you a glass of water, and then we’re going to talk about what is going to happen next.” 

His thumb brushed over the swollen skin beneath her eye, then his gaze shifted to take in the rest of her face. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying, with the right eye already a mosaic of purple bruises, accented by the swollen black smear beneath it. Her jaw was also mottled, and the cut on her forehead was closed by butterfly bandages. She looked like she’d run into a low hanging branch face-first six or seven times. 

He shifted her and set her down beside him before walking from the room. Left on her own, Lia took the opportunity to glance around. Despite her desperation to get away from the bar - and life in general - she was starting to feel a bit uneasy. But the woman inside of her - the one who found him so attractive - the one who’d been nothing but hurt and humiliated since stepping foot in this stupid county, was warmed by his attentions.

Still, she had to admit that it wasn’t the smartest thing she’d ever done, leaving a bar with a complete stranger - and one that she knew belonged to a cult - slightly tipsy and without letting her partner know, and she pulled her phone out. Before she could even open it up, John was back. He set a tray down on the coffee table in front of her. 

“I don’t know what you’ve taken for that,” he motioned to the general area of her face, “but I think you’ve had enough alcohol. You’ve got tea instead, and a bag of frozen peas.”That smile flashed across his face again, as quick as a flash of lightning. “It’s my personal remedy for a black eye.”

“You made tea?”

He paused in pouring to look at her. “You don’t like tea?”

“No. I mean, no, I do. You made me tea and brought me frozen peas.” For some reason, she wanted to start crying again. “I think this is the nicest thing anyone has done for me since I got here.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing I didn’t make you mac and cheese.”

Lia sniffled and picked up the bag of peas, pressing it against the side of her face that had the most damage. “Can you cook?”

“Absolutely not. Anyway, you probably should be on soft foods for a while. How’s your jaw?” 

She sighed and leaned back. “Truthfully? It hurts like hell, but not nearly as badly as my pride.”

He smiled again. God, he smiled a lot, but this time there was something off about it. Something sharp. He handed her the cup, urged her to drink. “Tell me what happened, Lia.”

“We pulled over someone with a busted tail light.” She let out a short, mocking laugh, then drained the cup. “It really was supposed to be that simple. But it turned out that he was on something. I don’t know, Staci - my partner -”

John waved off the explanation, “I’m well acquainted with Deputy Pratt.”

“Well, he thought they were drinking. There were open containers in the car. He asked them to get out and, well, they jumped us. I don’t really know what happened after that. When I came to, I was in the emergency room.”

He didn’t interrupt as she went on, when she spoke about Sheriff Whitehorse explaining who they were. Why they had freaked out. It hadn’t been just alcohol they’d been indulging in on their joyride. How one of them had a few priors for DWIs. How it was their last strike. 

John had walked to the big, open french doors and was staring out, and she stopped speaking. “Go on,” he said, with his back to her. 

But she couldn’t go on, because something that had been niggling at the back of her mind had finally held up a card and was waving it back and forth. “How did you know my first name?”

Now he turned, and he came to kneel in front of her. “I made it my business to know.”

She wanted to stand, but her body was heavy. So, so heavy. “Wha - the tea,” she barely got the words out, her mouth felt like it was coated in peanut butter, gluing her lips together. She couldn’t keep her eyes open, as much as she fought it. 

“Don’t worry.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, lips grazing the bandages, as her eyes closed and stayed closed. “This is all for the best.”

When Rook finally woke up, she went from dead asleep to exploding like a claymore mine from the bed. There was none of the grogginess she usually experienced after a hard night on the jailhouse floor, but there was pain. A lot of pain. She sagged down onto the plush bed she’d just come out of and cradled her head in her hands. 

It came as a bit of a surprise to her that she was still fully clothed in her deputy uniform, sans shoes. She stared at her pinky toe, sticking out from a hole in her sock, until the pain faded enough for her to stand and get her bearings. 

It was a huge room, with huge windows to match, flooding the room with sunshine. It was the kind of room you saw in magazines and knew you would never ever get in real life. It looked like something out of a showroom. For Rook, it felt like a prison. A month ago, a week ago - hell, a day ago - Lia would have given her left arm to be staying somewhere like this. All she wanted now was escape.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted her cellphone sitting on the dresser and she leapt for it. When she opened it, her heart - already racing - started galloping. Twenty two missed calls, twelve voicemails, and sixty seven text messages. 

She opened the voicemails first. 

“Rook, where did you go?” 

“Rook, this isn’t funny.”

“Listen, rookie, I don’t know how they do -”

“Lia, this isn’t funny. Call me back.”

“Lia, this is Sheriff Whitehorse. Call me so I know you’re okay.”

“THIS ISN’T FUNNY, ROO-”

They went on like that for a while, until she got to the last one. Then the blood froze in her veins. 

“Lia, it’s Staci. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but those guys? Those guys we arrested? They’re fucking dead, Lia. Whitehorse is going crazy. Call me back.” 

The text messages went on the same way. Lia’s hands were shaking so hard she could barely hold the phone, and she let it drop onto the bed beside her. Her blood was pounding in her ears, her hands and lips tingling as she gave into panic, sheer panic. But her body was rooted to the spot, she couldn’t force herself to move, even as the door opened. 

John, handsome John with the Hollywood smile, walked in carrying a tray. There was a daisy on it, she noted vaguely. A daisy in a vase. “Ah, you’re up. I’d hoped to…” he lifted the tray slightly.

She didn’t move, didn’t react, and his smile faded slightly. John set the tray on the dresser and crouched down in front of her, taking one of her hands in both of his. “Are you hurting, my dear?”

Lia couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, but the endearment brought her head up sharply. She tugged at his hand. “What did you do?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” he replied. 

It came out so smooth, so practiced. Lia almost believed him. 

“They’re dead, John. The people who -”

“Who hurt you?” The smile was gone, the charm turned off for now. “There had to be payment, Lia. I’m a strong believer in payment.”

“They were in a cell! They were going to jail,” she wanted to scream it out, but she felt numb. Like she was watching all of this from the outside and she would wake up to find it was all a nightmare. 

“That wasn’t enough!” He shouted, letting her hand drop so he could get up and prowl around the room. “I was going to take my time, let them atone. Make them atone.” 

John was talking, but it didn’t seem like any of his words were actually directed at her. He was having a dialogue with himself. “But I came in and you were asleep, you looked so awful. So vulnerable, but I know how strong you are. How smart. You’ve got a sense of purpose I could see the first time we met. And I knew, I just knew you’d be the one to march through Eden’s Gate with me. But first they had to atone. I went to the jail. I told the Sheriff I was their lawyer and he let me in to see them. They were laughing, Lia. Laughing. I couldn’t let that go.”

Lia stared at him, stiffening her spine.  **“You’re a psychopath.”**

**“I prefer creative.** But I can see that your mind is made up about this.” He dropped to his knees in front of her, moving so suddenly that she jumped. He took her hands, his grip so tight there was no hope of pulling free. “So what’s the point of arguing. You can’t be feeling your best right now, and I don’t want to argue with you when you’re not feeling well.”

“No,” she whispered. “I’m not feeling my best. Let’s not argue. John, there’s a difference between retribution and the law.”

John laughed. The sound was so cheery in that sunlit room. It felt so out of place. 

“Darling, I used to be a lawyer. I know all about that, and I would be happy to debate you once you’re feeling up to it. But for now, you need to recover. What’s it to be? Would you like a soak in the tub? Whirlpool jets and hot water will help with any stiffness.”

She had to tread carefully here, she knew that. She was in way over her head, and she hadn’t been trained for anything like this. “That’s a very kind offer, but no. I’m going to need to get home.”

John pursed his lips, then let his head drop. Dark hair falling over his eyes. “I’m sorry, my sweet. That’s just not going to be possible. I know how you’ve been living, sleeping at the jail. I just can’t allow that.”

He rose to his full height and went to grab the forgotten tray from the dresser. “No, you’re going to stay here, as my guest, where I can be sure you’ll be well taken care of. But don’t fret. I’ll make sure they know I’m taking good care of you.”


	9. John Seed x Female Deputy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr request for John Seed and female deputy, with the quote: “You need to take your shirt off.”

When she woke up, Rook had no idea where she was. 

It wasn’t the first time she’d woken up somewhere she didn’t remember being the night before, but usually she had a lot more to drink first and it happened much later in the evening. This time, she was warm and comfortable. The bed she was in was completely dry and so soft that she just sank into the middle. She knew it would be a struggle climbing out, but luckily, she was in no hurry to do that. 

Her lips curved, and her back arched as she stretched, comfortable for the first time since the entire cult debacle had broken out in Hope County. 

She could get used to this. 

“Beautiful.”

Rook nearly came out of her skin at the unexpected comment when she hadn’t thought anyone was around. 

Maybe she shouldn’t have been surprised, though. Given that this was not her bedroom, and the bed definitely wasn’t the old twin sized she’d been sleeping on since moving to Montana - blowing up tunnels made it hard for u-hauls and moving companies to get through, surprisingly enough. 

She peeked of the edge of the thick white duvet, and wasn’t entirely surprised to see John Seed standing at the foot of the bed. 

He was taking a page out of his older brother’s book - well, a book, not the book - and was shirtless. Her mouth started to water at the sight of all those lovely tattoos and all that skin on proud display. And the reason he was shirtless, she discovered, glancing down, was that she was wearing his signature blue shirt. 

Rook had never worn silk before. It was very soft, and it smelled  _ delicious _ . Yeah, he was never going to get that back.  

“How-how did I get here?” It was the topmost question on her mind. The answer was probably going to be Bliss bullets, but it was still an issue she wanted to get out of the way. 

“My Chosen were a little...overzealous with the Bliss when I sent the capture party for you.” He looked a little sheepish. Rook didn’t think it was even possible for him to be anything less than completely confident. “I thought it best to let you sleep it out in comfort.”

“Okay, okay. Cool, cool, cool.” She bit her lip, uncertain whether or not she wanted the answer, but... she had to ask. “Why am I wearing your shirt?”

“You don’t remember?” John asked. He put one knee into the mattress and started to crawl across the bed toward her.  The look on his face was one Rook couldn’t quite decipher. It was equal parts sinister and alluring. Or maybe it was alluring because John Seed was sinister through and through, and Rook kind of liked that. 

She’d always had a thing for villains. 

Not that she had a thing for John Seed. That would be hard to prove, if anyone happened upon this little scene, since he had his mouth on her neck now, sucking lightly - a sensation that sent tingles down her spine - and she was arching into his touch. 

“You don’t remember?” he asked again, the words muffled by skin. 

She could barely remember her own name. Lord, the man could do things with his mouth - wicked, wonderful things. 

“What about the Resistance, your family?” she asked as his mouth moved down her neck, leaving marks that would be next to impossible to cover. Because this was happening, and she was enjoying herself too much to stop it now. 

“Worry about it tomorrow,” he murmured against her skin, then sank his teeth into her shoulder. Rook let out a sound she would probably be embarrassed by later - something between a squeak and a moan. 

**“You need to take your shirt off.”** He pulled away and shifted back against the mountains of pillows at the head of the bed. Then he pulled her toward him, shifting so she could straddling him, and slid his hands to her hips. He slid his hand under the shirt and rubbed her hip bones with his thumbs. “Take it off slowly. I want to watch.” 

Rook obliged, sliding the buttons loose one by one, but she didn’t part the shirt. Not yet. She waited until the buttons were all completely loose and ran her fingernails down the strip of revealed skin, moaning softly at the sensation. Then, starting at the lapels, she parted the shirt. John’s quiet gasp had her shifting in his lap, against the growing erection. 

He sat up, raising himself to eye level, and then he licked her cheek. 

Rook jerked back, wiping at her cheek with the back of her hand. 

“What the hell, John?” She liked wet kisses, but honestly, that was too much. 

John opened his mouth to reply, but all that came out was a happy, exuberant bark. Then he licked her again.  

Rook groaned as she was ripped from the dream, and she didn’t know whether to be annoyed with Boomer for the wake up call, or grateful for the reprieve.


	10. Staci Pratt x Female Deputy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was a request for Staci x fem!dep with the prompt "you snore in you sleep...but it's adorable, okay?"

“You’re dead, Pratt!” 

The words were accompanied by his uniform jacket smacking him in the face. Staci sputtered and tried to fend off his angry friend, but she was determined. 

“Cut it out. Cut it out. Cut. It. Out!” He grabbed for the jacket and yanked it from her hands. “I don’t get why you’re so mad about this,  _ Die Hard _ is a classic!”

Since she’d been deprived of her weapon, Rook put her hands on her hips instead. “Classic yes, but it’s also the movie you choose every movie night. I love Bruce Willis, you know that, but I am so sick of Die Hard!”

Staci put his hand over his heart, mortally offended. “How can you be sick of yippee ki yay, motherfucker? It’s easily the best catchphrase. Of all time.”

“Easily.” Rook grabbed his lapels and tried to pull him closer, but since he was taller and definitely outweighed her, only managed to lift herself up to her toes. “So pick something else, or movie night is cancelled. For all time.”

That was when they noticed they were nearly nose to nose, or as close as it was possible to be with the height difference. Rook let go and backed away, clearing her throat. She knew the tips of her ears were bright red, she could feel the warmth, could feel it creeping up her neck and knew she was seconds away from blushing. “Anyway, I’m off late tonight, so you pick up the food.”

“I’ll be over around eight thirty, then. Pizza or Chinese?” Staci kept his own voice as nonchalant as possible, like he couldn’t care less about the answer. 

Rook wrinkled her nose. “Neither. How about I call the Spread Eagle and have Casey grill us up a couple burgers? You can pick them up on the way over.”

“Sounds like a plan.” He couldn’t help the grin - even he would call it stupidly big - as Rook walked out, but he at least made the attempt to hide it. Even so, he could practically feel Joey’s eyes boring into his back. “You, uh, you want to tag along, Joey?”

His fellow deputy was far too busy making gagging noises behind her hands to respond at first. “And interrupt your little tête-à-tête? I don’t think so,” she said, once she was facing him again. “Me and my lady have other plans, anyway. Enjoy your...alone time with the rookie.” 

And then she was gone, sauntering out the door before he could think of a clever comeback. 

Later that night, about halfway through the movie - it was  _ Jaws _ tonight - Rook had fallen asleep with her head against his shoulder, and was gently snoring away. It was, like a whole lot of other things Staci found annoying on other people, strangely appealing when it was her. 

Then again, it was getting hard to find something about her that he  _ didn’t  _ like. 

He reached up to shake her shoulder, but paused, his hand hovering over her shoulder as he debated whether or not to wake her up. What he really wanted to do was slide his other arm around her and bring her even closer, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He also couldn’t bring himself to wake her up.

She had looked so tired when he’d knocked on her door, and she said her day had gone downhill since he’d last seen her. 

Some rest would do her good, and if she was more comfortable using his shoulder as a pillow, who was he to push her away? Instead, he reached for the remote to turn down the volume so she wouldn’t be disturbed. 

Rook shifted in her sleep, nuzzling his throat. She seemed to fit so perfectly against him, and her skin was so soft, he couldn’t resist touching. Gently, so gently, he brushed his finger down her cheek. She made a little sighing noise, and it was all he could do not to lean down a press his lips to hers.

Instead, giving in just a little, he brushed his lips over her forehead. 

Staci let his imagination loose for a moment, he imagined waking her with a kiss. Tilting her head up so he could take her lips and then work his way down to her neck - a neck that he wanted to nibble on - to her breasts, to that sweet spot between her legs. 

But he wouldn’t. Not when she wasn’t awake, wasn’t aware of what was going on, and couldn’t give him a clear, concise ‘yes’. 

With a sigh of his own, he let his head rest on hers. The next thing he knew, something ticklish was happening to his neck. He jerked his head away, but it kept happening. Staci reached up to swat it away and his hand connected with something soft. Rook let out a soft grunt, and shifted.

“Not nice,” she murmured, nuzzling against his shoulder. 

“Sorry,” Staci’s voice was slurred with sleep, and he wasn’t quite up on current events, but when he cracked his eyes open he could see pale morning light filtering in through her curtains. “Time ‘s it?”

“Mmhmm.” Her answer wasn’t so much words as a soft series of hums, but Staci could feel her drifting closer, could feel her lips brushing his neck. “Early.”

“Yeah.” His eyes drifted shut again, and he shifted them so they were lying facing each other, instead of her using him as a body pillow. He sighed when he felt her nuzzling against him, searching for his warmth. In response, his other arm went around her and he pulled her close. 

“You snore in your sleep,” Rook whispered. 

Even in his half aware state, Staci felt the indignation. “No, you.”

Not the most coherent, or mature, answer, but it was all he was capable of at the moment. 

“But it’s adorable, okay?” She pressed her lips against his chin, then the corner of his mouth. “Staci?”

“Yeah?” he hummed. He still hadn’t opened his eyes. Everything felt soft, lethargic. It was warm, and the room felt heavy and sweet. He wanted to live in this moment, wanted it to last forever. 

“Is this alright?” Her fingers were cool against his skin as she turned his face towards her, but it was the slight anxiety in her voice that had him opening his eyes. His lips curled up into a smile and he closed the distance between them so he could brush his lips over hers.

“‘S good,” he murmured between soft kisses. 

It was slow, and warm, and it felt so  _ right. _

It felt so natural for his hands to slide under her shirt and softly caress her sleep-warmed skin, just like it felt natural for his fingers to wind into his hair. Their kisses grew deeper, longer, but the pace didn’t change. Even as he pulled her shirt over her head, and her hands fumbled with the button on his jeans. 

“Condom,” he whispered as her fingers worked their way inside his zipper. His breath caught as her fingers closed around him and pulled him free of his pants.  

Rook pulled back slightly to look at his face. “You don’t have one?”

Staci flushed, it would have been hard not to. Not with her fingers still wrapped around him, stroking gently. God, her grip was  _ perfect.  _ “Believe it or not, I didn’t come here expecting this. I don’t have anything on me.”   
  
“And here I thought you were a boy scout. Always prepared.” She kissed the tip of his nose and he shifted to take her lips again, but she pulled back, glanced down. Then she smiled and stroked him again, using her thumb to stroke the tip. His hips bucked and he couldn’t stop himself from grabbing her wrist. 

“Baby,” he gasped. It was the first time he’d ever called her anything other than her name, and if the way she hummed and nibbled on his lower lip was any indication, she liked it as much as he did. “Stop.”

“I thought you’d like it,” she whispered, still teasing him with her fingers. 

“I like it. I like it too much.” He struggled to calm his breathing, to control himself. He didn’t want to embarrass himself by coming too soon and ending this, but her sweet fingers were doing a number on him.

“I like it, too. I love the way you feel.” Their faces were a hairsbreadth apart, their lips brushing with every word they spoke. He could see how flushed she was, how her eyes darkened with arousal. It was intoxicating. “I want to make you come.”

His hand was still wrapped around her wrist, but at her words, he slowly released his grip on her and cupped her face in both of his hands. “I’m never going to say no to that, but I want to touch you, too. Can I?”

Rook nodded. 

Staci worked at the drawstring on her pants, shimmying them down slightly before he slid his hand down under her knee. He lifted her leg until she braced her foot on a cushion, and then lifted his hand to his mouth. They couldn’t keep their eyes off each other as he licked his fingers and used them to circle her clit. She groaned, but her hand slowly slid up and down his length. 

Once she was wet enough, Staci pushed two fingers into her and started to fuck her, slowly and deeply. Rook’s breath went shallow at the sensation. 

“You look so beautiful,” he whispered, his own voice less than steady. “Such a pretty wet pussy.”

Her breath caught on a gasp, then released on a shaky moan as his thumb found her clit, as he angled his fingers inside of her to find the right spot. He touched her until she bucked against his hand, until her eyes were glazed and her breath was coming in pants. 

And she touched him, too. She gripped him hard and pumped his length in short, jerky motions that had his eyes squeezing tightly shut, had him making noises that made no sense. Until his whole body tensed and jerked. 

When her orgasm finally arrived, she squeezed him tight and milked him through his own orgasm, sending them both toppling over the edge together. As soon as he finished, Staci took her hands in his and held on tight as his heart pounded in his ears.

With his eyes shut, and her hands in his, the world felt so far away. Like it was just the two of them, in their own private place, and nothing had ever felt so good. She had turned to jelly as her pleasure subsided, and he felt just as quivering and weak. His arms went around her and he held on tight, her head against his shoulder, his breath ragged against the crown of her head.

“Beautiful, beautiful girl,” he whispered, breathing in the scent of her hair. Words were bubbling up inside of him, words he had to choke back. “Are you okay?”

She hummed, pressing a kiss to his throat. “Yes. Yes, that was perfect.”

Rook leaned back slightly, and his arms loosened to allow her her space, but all she did was cup his face in her hands, stroking her thumbs over his overnight scruff. Impulsively, she pressed her lips against his in a quick kiss. She just couldn’t resist. “Staci...I-”

She cut herself off and glanced away. Staci had never felt so bereft. He wanted to know what she had been about to say. Hope, stupid, foolish hope, was bubbling up inside of him. But it was too soon for him to act on what he was feeling, much less admit to it, and the timing was all wrong anyway. Words said in the throes of passion were worth less than nothing. 

So he kissed her, and he smiled against her lips, and he murmured, “you’re the one who snores.”


	11. Joseph Seed x Original Female Character

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The request on Tumblr was for “No, I’m supposed to be making you feel good.” - Joseph x Delphine Rook (my deputy OC)

As Joseph’s last word echoed in the busy, buzzing silence of the chapel, Del felt an echoing buzz in her blood. He was always so electric when he was like this, when passion rode him, and his eyes were fever bright. Her lips parted on a shaky breath and she shot to her feet, eager to be the first to talk to him, to touch him, before he could be surrounded by the rest of his congregation. 

Once that happened, any ideas of one on one time would go right out the window, especially on a night like this. 

Joseph’s sermons were always popular, the small church was generally jam packed, but since he had announced that the Collapse was coming, it was standing room only, and barely even that. Hell, if any more people tried to squeeze in, they would be standing on each other’s shoulders. 

Del supposed she’d been lucky to get a seat at all, since her arrival had been the result of a last minute change of plans. Luckily, his Heralds had a sharp eye, and her hair was as distinct at Jacob’s - sometimes she felt like they were the only two redheads in all of Hope County. 

Even sitting at the front, as close as she’d been able to get, Del still had to elbow her way through people to get to Joseph, even as he opened his arms to her. It was an unfair thought to have, but sometimes she got the feeling that she took a close second to his flock. He was more The Father than he was Joseph these days, but she took comfort when he held her close and pressed his forehead to hers. 

It should not have felt as good as it did, to have all of that razor sharp focus centered on her, even for a few moments. 

He was hot, sweaty, and their combined body heat in the unairconditioned building was almost unbearable, but she supposed she was just as bad - it was already a hot summer night, and the people packed together like sardines turned it sweltering. In any case, it didn’t stop him from sliding his hands under her hair to cup the back of her neck in his hand. 

Delphine’s arms went around him and he drew back a scant few inches to speak, but before he could get the words out, they were surrounded. Their private world wrenched apart in the space of seconds as people crowded close, eager to touch and talk. 

He was a giving man, sometimes too giving, and Del couldn’t help the stab of resentment she felt toward the people who felt they had an equal claim on his time and attention. She couldn’t stop the disappointment; they hadn’t had a moment alone in weeks, and she didn’t know why she had expected otherwise tonight. 

Joseph took his duties as The Father seriously, and her surprising him with a visit to his church wasn’t going to sway him from what he needed to do. Their relationship was too new, too fragile, and to expect otherwise would only cause problems.

She had seen him, touched him, and now her presence was nothing more than a distraction. And with that realization came an overwhelming urge to flee. 

She stepped back and unwound her arms from around him, but she hadn’t made it more than a few steps when he caught her hand, dragged her back to him.

“Wait for me,” the words were almost nothing more than air against her skin, but she nodded. His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, and Del felt herself melt. And then he wasn’t looking at her anymore, but over her shoulder. He nodded and Del felt herself being led away, by John this time. 

They didn’t go far - it was only a few steps from the church to the small home Joseph had taken as his own. It was small, and simple, befitting a humble man of the cloth - and barely bigger than the apartment she shared in Fall’s End with Staci. John left waiting in the front room, but not before he gave her shoulders and squeeze and told her, “be patient.”

Del found herself pacing from end to end, calling herself all kinds of a fool for staying, for  _ being patient _ . For falling in love with a man like Joseph. Because she did love him. It was one of those realizations that hit in the gut with all the force of a fist.

She didn’t know when it had happened, or even how it had happened, but the feelings she had for him - the affection and respect she felt for him - had grown into something so much deeper. And she wanted him to feel the same for her. 

She wanted him to need her, and want her, the same way. 

Delphine was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t hear the door open. Not at first. Not until Joseph cleared his throat and she turned to face him. He closed the door behind him, but didn’t move from the entryway. 

“You waited.” It was all he said, all he needed to say. 

She nodded. 

And then she was in his arms, and he was kissing her with a fervor that took her breath away. Whatever else she may have been thinking simply drained from her mind as her arms went around him. 

Joseph would have been lying if he had said he hadn’t been waiting for this exact moment since the day Delphine had set foot in his church to arrest him, only to turn away at the last moment. The voice had whispered in his ear that she was the one - that she would be his. His courtship of her had been slow, careful.

He’d been honorable, refusing to touch her like this until he was certain that she would accept her place beside him. It had been months of slow, careful planning, but it had all paid off the minute he had spied those distinctive copper curls slipping in the door. 

He knew he should have devoted more mental energy to his sermon, but the truth was that he couldn’t keep his mind off of her, and what would happen when he finished speaking and his flock was shepherded away safely.

Every time he glanced at her, every time he caught the scent of violets that floated around her, his body tightened, and a delicious shiver of anticipation skittered down his spine. 

_ Soon,  _ he told himself, putting a stranglehold on his reaction and forcing himself to relax.  _ Soon. _

And then soon had come, and they were alone - blissfully alone - and he couldn’t believe how lovely she looked in the waning light. 

Joseph tangled his fingers in her hair and drew her back from him. He used the grip on her curls to tilt her face up, admiring how swollen her lips were and the flush riding high on her cheekbones. Her eyes blinked open slowly and the hazy pleasure there had him stiffening. He wound her hair around his fist, tugging her gently, but firmly ever closer. 

“It had to be you,” he whispered, once their lips were a hairsbreadth apart. Joseph pressed his lips to hers, swallowing her tiny sigh, then he drew back. “I knew it the first moment I saw you. Only you.”

He released her hair, cradling her face now, but he didn’t kiss her. Not yet. Instead, he just looked at her. Those electric blue eyes moved from feature to feature, as if he was searching for something, before locking on her eyes. 

He simply gazed at her, unspeakably tender, before he took her lips with his. He knew the taste of her, the feel of her lips on his was familiar and dear, but this was different. It was warm, and sweet, and he could feel the arousal pooling low in his gut. 

Joseph’s fingers found the small buttons on the front of her dress. He was enjoying this. This slow discovery as they undressed one another, each button revealing another inch of soft skin. His fingers got to the last button, resting just below her navel, but he didn’t need to undo it - her dress was loose enough to slip from her shoulder. But he needed to do this, to savor the moment. To draw this out as long as he could. 

He pushed the fabric from her shoulders, kissing her as the fabric slid from her body. She had come to him in white, and he couldn’t help but love the symbolism of it, but what she wore beneath stole the breath from his lungs. 

She was a vision in lace and silk, white again. He knew it was for practical purposes, and he thanked god for that practicality, but it made her more tempting than ever. 

“Turn around,” he whispered. He wasn’t so experienced at seduction that he could remove her bra by feel alone. 

Del obeyed, turning and gathering her hair in one hand to keep it out of the way. Joseph unhooked her bra and let it fall, then raised a finger to trace the red patterns left in her skin from the band. 

She was his, he realized. All his, for all eternity. 

It was hard to fathom, how he - a no one, from nowhere, with nothing - could have gotten so lucky twice in one lifetime. 

His finger moved along her skin, sliding a finger down the ridge of her spine. She shivered, and he leaned toward her. He pressed his lips to the back of her neck as he took her shoulders in his hands. 

She was his. 

Unable to stop himself, he turned her to face him and dropped to his knees, holding her hips firmly in place when she let out a little squeak and tried to shift away. And he pressed his lips against her, over that silk and lace. 

He pulled her panties down, even as she shimmied to help, then returned to exactly where he was. Del spread her legs slightly, bracing, as his fingers spread her open and his mouth found her clit. He sucked hard, until her hips were grinding against his mouth, and her fingers tugged at his hair. 

Joseph wrapped his arms around her thighs and held her tight against him, tongue lapping until she was moaning.

He should have let her finish, should have kissed, and licked, and sucked until she came against his mouth, but at that point, his own needs took over. He rose, ignoring her cry of distress, and he swept her up into his arms. 

Joseph carried her to the bed and laid her on the sheets, then stepped back to enjoy the sight of her spread out before him like a gift. 

“Beautiful,” he murmured, as he started to remove what little clothing he was still wearing. And then he waited until she held out her hand and drew him down beside her. Her hand slid down and closed around him, and Joseph hissed, hips jerking. He gently moved her hand away, pressing a kiss to her fingers.  **“No, I’m supposed to be making** **_you_ ** **feel good.”**

Del hitched herself up onto her elbow for leverage and then pushed him onto his back. She straddled his hips and took his hands in hers. “Why don’t we make each other feel good?” she asked, leaning over to press a line of kisses against his jaw. 

“I haven’t been with anyone else in years,” Joseph said, reaching for her hips. “But I will use protection if you want it. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

Del cupped his face in her hands, drew him close for a kiss that left them both panting and groaning. “Please don’t. Don’t use anything. I just want you inside me. Just you.”

“If you’re sure,” his heart felt full to bursting, and he ached to be inside of her. He flipped her onto her back, laughing at her little shriek of surprise, one that turned into a drawn out moan when he slid into her in one smooth motion. He pressed his forehead against hers and sighed out a shaky breath.

She was wet, so, so wet. It was like nothing he had ever felt before. 

Divine. 

Words were lost as they moved together, with need, and fire, and total abandon. Groping at each other, trying to get as close a possible, learning each other’s bodies as they strove toward orgasm. Joseph braced himself on one elbow and reached down to rub tight little circles against her clit until she was crying out and her back arched. She gasped for breath, and all she could do in the aftermath of her orgasm was clutch his back. 

And then, before she had even caught her breath, Joseph’s rhythm broke. He slammed himself into her, over and over again, grabbing at her shoulder, her hip, and finally holding onto her hands as he lost himself. Then he collapsed, his full weight pinning her to the mattress, but she didn’t care. 

She loved the feel of him on top of her, the heaviness, the way his taste lingered on her tongue. She loved  _ him. _

It was the most perfect moment, realizing that she loved him. It was that simple. There would be complications, but they didn’t matter. Not right then and there. 

He rolled onto his back beside her and lifted their joined hands to his heart. He didn’t say anything, and the words caught in her throat, but as she rested her head on his shoulder, and felt his heart thudding against her hand, it was all she needed. 

**Author's Note:**

> Catch me on tumblr at words-and-seeds


End file.
